Fading
by IanPhilippe
Summary: Charlie W. x Severus S. Charlie becomes fascinated by a certain unapproachable Potions Master, but puts his feelings aside for later, for the time after the war...


**Fading**

**Disclaimer:** The world and characters belong to JKR. No profit made except for immaterial fangirlish delight. 

**Warnings:** angst, minor HP7 spoilers (character death… though I doubt there's anyone who doesn't know about that one), slight AU (I had Charlie come back to England once more, in the summer between the fourth and fifth book)

**Pairings:** Charlie Weasley / Severus Snape

**A/N:** I'd be ecstatic to hear your ideas, opinions or even critique... please, let me know anything and everything that crosses your mind while reading : ) Dedicated to Yao-chan as a belated B-day present :D

Inspired by a great song Fading Like a Flower by Roxette… the melody isn't angsty at all, but the text somehow connects to this pairing for me…

* * *

_Severus Snape is a man of paradoxes. Charlie knows... Charlie is watching intently._

* * *

It's not that Charlie doesn't hate the man. Oh, in his school years, Charlie hates Snape with passion just like any other Weasley who had been taught by him. Just like any other Gryffindor... just like everyone. Only several years later, when the hatred for a Professor seems inappropriate towards a man, when Charlie sits in his first Order meeting and looks at his former teacher, he realizes that there's not even one person who likes Severus Snape. Not even Dumbledore - he defends the Potions Master when Sirius once again opens his mouth against Snape - but it seems to Charlie that it's his own competence Dumbledore defends, not the man who is in the center of all those insults. Of course Dumbledore is nice to Snape, but then, Dumbledore is like that to everyone and moreover, that ever-present spark in Headmaster's eyes is missing when he talks to Snape. Charlie only realizes after a few Order meetings that Dumbledore doesn't like Snape, just like everyone else. He trusts him and uses him, but his kindness never crosses the line of diplomatic politeness.

And it's not the ignorance of all the other people that makes Charlie want to know more about Snape - it's the way_ Snape_ neglects _himself_, how he behaves as if the insults were pretty much normal and didn't affect him in any way possible. Maybe they really don't; maybe Snape is dull and empty inside, incapable of human emotions, only living to fulfill his mission, whatever it is... but the mere idea of a man without any feelings is so cruel that Charlie rejects it with his entire mind.

And observes.

Soon, he comes to conclusion that Severus Snape is a man of paradoxes. As one of the most powerful men between Death Eaters as well as in the stable hierarchy of the Order, he could save hundreds of people and kill just as many if he wanted. And still, he seems fragile in Charlie's eyes, fragile, unhappy and being slowly destroyed by his power over his own world.

He is composed. Always. His sarcasm is his life-long support; Charlie is familiar with that from his days at Hogwarts. Then, their relationship was only that of a student and a teacher.

Now, it seems to be even less and Charlie wonders why the hell he feels regret, quiet, hidden from his family and friends. But it is there, Charlie still feels it whenever that dark figure appears in front of him and manages to ignore him completely once again. Charlie doesn't feel as hurt as he would if said person was a normal human being with at least minimal social skills. But Snape seems not to simply ignore Charlie - he looks like he doesn't acknowledge his being.

Charlie understands that Snape is oblivious to the existence of other people, as if they were rare Potions ingredients stored behind a thick glass wall, moving slowly in weird liquids to get to Snape, but never completely reaching him.

The only ones Snape seems to recognize are Harry and Sirius, and Charlie almost envies those two. They are the only ones who can reach through that glass and touch the real Severus Snape, if only for a split second every time. Then, emotions flash in Snape's eyes, mostly hatred, but sometimes weariness, anger, and that brief something that Charlie interprets as the connection with Snape's other self, the one that still can feel and think and live with more than just orders from Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, the one true self that is not absolutely focused on performing the tasks he was ordered to do.

When Charlie witnesses that storm in the black eyes for the first time, he has to fight the overwhelming urge to grin broadly. It's highly inappropriate in the situation as Snape growls at Sirius and Charlie's mother frantically tries to calm them down, but Charlie feels content and overjoyed again after a long time. Only because his guesses were correct and deep down behind that dutiful shell is a real man.

Charlie knows... Charlie is watching intently. 

* * *

After long hours of almost stalking him, innocent observation becomes morbid fascination and Snape becomes Severus in the confined notions of Charlie's mind. He's not sure how, when and why that happened, but he almost has to watch his mouth when he speaks in the meetings, in order not to call the man _Severus_ aloud. So Charlie basks in the silent pleasure of imagined intimacy alone and quietly melts the name on his tongue, imagining _Severus'_ face if he ever hears Charlie speak his name.

Charlie is aware of the fact that possibly, it won't happen anytime soon, if ever.

Severus hardly lets anyone touch him. His look is even more stern than usual when he endures Dumbledore's occasional hand on his shoulder and quick handshakes of several Order members who want to keep up the polite appearance and greet him when he comes to Grimmauld's Place.

Charlie is never one of them. Even though he knows he's probably just being childish about it, he doesn't want to look like he's sucking up to the man all of a sudden – it is well-known that all the Weasleys, just like the right Gryffindors, dislike Severus intensely. Mum and Dad don't – or at least they maintain awkwardness instead of hatred as they are supposed to be grown-up past childish prejudices – but that doesn't change the fact that the whole Order would probably immediately check Charlie for Imperius or Confundo if he ever gathered the courage to walk up to Severus Snape and greet him properly.

So Charlie doesn't, he just sends looks to Severus' back – looks that must feel warm and inquisitive over those black robes – but never really meets the black eyes.

Not that he's not trying. He's looking at Severus a lot – most of the time – anytime Severus is near. In fact, Charlie would consider it staring if anyone did it to him and he would look back firmly, only to challenge his almost-stalker, to fight that look away.

Severus does not. His ignorance of his surroundings never ceases to amaze Charlie as he stares some more, hungry for the dark, putting-him-to-his-place glare which never comes, expecting at least some kind of reaction. Then, Charlie remembers that Severus is a spy and must be used to people staring at his back, intruding his circles of privacy and silently asking for something he is not willing to give. Charlie understands Severus is not looking back. Ever.

But Charlie doesn't stop looking.

In fact, the realization that Severus is ignoring, maybe not even registering his stares, makes Charlie's green eyes bolder in their journey over the hunched figure. There's not much to see with all those robes hanging from Severus' bony shoulders, but occasionally, Charlie can celebrate a success in his mission to see more of Severus Snape. 

_Occasionally_ is when Severus comes to Grimmauld's Place battered, worn-out and with his pale face contorted in pain. _Occasionally_is when Severus requires immediate healing and Charlie gets a glimpse of his pale throat or thin forearm. Charlie doesn't like those times, as they remind him of the war raging out there in the real world, reminds him that the very man who is intriguing his curiosity stands in the epicenter of it all and may not come out of it victorious, regardless of the outcome of the war.

These thoughts come to Charlie's mind as he watches Severus retreat with Dumbledore to be thoroughly questioned for anything that might be of help against Voldemort, the Headmaster not really paying much attention to the hurting man, only to a hurt spy. Charlie knows he's being unfair to the old man in his thoughts, knows that with the information Severus provides, every second might be crucial, but he can't help and feel bad about it. 

* * *

When Dumbledore asks who can go to Severus' place and bring some important potion, Charlie volunteers and pretends not to see disbelieving looks in his siblings' faces. Charlie knows they still hate Severus and doesn't intend to explain himself.

All that matters is the fact that a moment later he stands in front of an unobtrusive small house that seems to blend into the foggy, colourless street. 

He knocks on the door, which is closest to being dull white, half-expecting to set some horrible curse in motion, but nothing happens, nothing except the door swinging open and a wand pointing at Charlie in a split second. But there's not enough time for Charlie's reflexes to kick in, as the Potions Master immediately recognizes his visitor as being one of the few who are not out to get him. In Severus' case, it can't even be called paranoia.

"Weasley," Severus acknowledges him with a sharp nod that seems almost rude and lowers his wand, motioning for Charlie to come in. Something in Charlie screams in need to tell Severus to call him by his first name. Because Snape voices his surname as if he were referring to something general, something unimportant, and Charlie doesn't want to be viewed in that light. Not by Severus. But Charlie resists the urge and silently steps in, trying not to look around too much as he can feel the reluctance with which Severus lets him into the last place he can call private. 

The house is dark, small and as impersonal as its owner, bearing no sign of an inhabitant except for a book on the table. The furniture is old and worn-out, mostly in that one weird tone of dark brown that manages to make people feel cold only with looking at the wood. And even with that general feeling of abandoned, but well-kept house, it all reminds Charlie of Severus. Of his ability to not be seen if he wishes so, of his reluctance to let people inside his life. As if the whole house was the same – reluctant to let people in.

"Here," Charlie hears behind himself and he turns around to face Severus, holding a small vial filled with translucent liquid. 

Holding it with _those fingers_, those erotic fingers with round, large fingernails that are probably a bit too short to belong to a professional piano-player, but are nonetheless squeezing an inappropriate reaction from Charlie's mind with their every move.

He reaches out to take the vial, but his distressed mind makes his hand shake a bit too much.

When the two pale hands shoot up to save the potion from falling to the ground, Charlie's throat goes dry as Severus' palm touches his skin.

"Be careful with that, Weasley, it took me five weeks to finish," Snape growls and his hands remain at their respective place over the vial, and more importantly, over Charlie's fingers. It's only a second, but it's enough to make Charlie's mind go completely blank and overflowing with thoughts at the same time. He reaches with his free hand and covers Severus', raising his eyes to meet the black ones and searching for answers in them, for answers and questions as he no longer knows either.

For that split second, Charlie is filled with so many emotions he thinks he's going to explode. _I want to protect you_, he says in his mind to Severus as the black eyes are unreadable to him. _I want to be with you_, he spells out with his look, his first look meeting Severus'.

Severus frees his hands from Charlie's touch and steps back and for a moment, the younger man thinks Severus is going to flee the room or hex him or throw a snide remark at his head, but none of that happens and Severus just looks at him, with no emotions at all in his eyes.

Sadly professional to the core.

And Charlie aches to touch him, aches to prove his thoughts not yet voiced, but felt all along, aches to get his point through to the man in front of him. Candlelight usually makes people look prettier, but it only makes Severus look distant, eerie and tired and Charlie longs to embrace him and make him feel better, if only for a minute. A second. A nonexistent little while in which he would be that special someone who really cares for Severus, who just needs to_be_ to make Severus all better and healed. 

Charlie takes a tiny step closer.

"Charles," Snape says and Charlie understands it's a warning, but can't be bothered by that as he takes another step. Slowly, carefully, as if walking on broken glass. And he _is_, for the shreds of glass from Severus' eyes cut thousands of little open wounds in Charlie as he draws closer.

He could touch Severus' face now if he let go of the vial; he could kiss the man if only he took that one last step, literal and imagined, between them.

But Charlie's heart is racing crazily and he is unable to move even an inch closer, afraid of being pushed away and knowing he's going to be anyway. 

Charlie doesn't know if it's Occlumency or his usual inability to hide his thoughts that make Severus sneer – but that sneer seems terribly exhausted.

"I am not allowed to have memories other than those my work requires," Severus says in that velvety, dry voice of his that can make people cower in fear and embarrassment if he wants to; but there's no authority in his words now, just a plain plea for Charlie to just go away and leave him with his nothingness.

Charlie knows the ending of this, but tries, nonetheless, to prolong that moment of honesty and closeness.

"That's stupid. No one's able to ban you from being human," Charlie tries to persuade himself more than Severus; he wants to believe that there are the Good Guys and Bad Guys and that after all is over, life will be perfectly bright and alright once again. He wants to believe that the Dark Arts are the worst that can happen to a person in this war… but as in every war, Charlie knows that _the worst thing that can happen to a man are people_.

"_I_ am."

_Or himself_, Charlie adds bitterly in his mind as he hears those two, simple words that cut deeper than any snide remark could. They seem honest and that's what's making them so bad for Charlie – that one little glimpse of real Severus Snape is enough to make him want to run away.

Severus must feel it as well, as he averts his gaze away from Charlie and speaks, once again impenetrable and emotionless:

"I am sure the Headmaster is waiting for you, Weasley."

Charlie turns around and leaves, Apparating to the Grimmauld's Place as soon as he is out of the door, and the small vial in his hands burns with the memory of Severus' touch.

The next day, Charlie's days off are over and he returns to Romania. 

* * *

Romania is beautiful in its cold roughness and it reminds Charlie of Severus. In every blackened tree reaching to the greyish sky, Charlie sees the thin body wrapped up in heavy robes; during every cold evening he – against his will – remembers that one night at Spinner's End. The all too familiar reluctance to accept strangers is soaked right through the very ground under Charlie's feet as he walks around looking for distraction. 

He soon finds it inside a letter from Dumbledore, a letter including indirect order to recruit as many people as possible for the Light side. 

That requires actually meeting people and Charlie realizes that even _they_seem so much like Severus that he begins to wonder if there weren't some Romanians in Snape family tree. They are all dark, detached from reality and wary of strangers, but in the precious moments of peace they can enjoy themselves like there is no tomorrow – probably because they know that tomorrow may be their last. And a very inebriated Charlie slurrs even in his thoughts as he wonders if that's the case with Severus, too – if the man doesn't want to enjoy himself because he knows he _can't_die yet… is _not allowed_ to die. Yet.

* * *

Christmas is coming quickly and Charlie, just like the past years, spends it alone in his apartment in a shabby, war-worn building on the grounds of the dragon preserve. He thinks of his family over his mother's cooking and the Weasley pullover and can't help but bask in his seclusion, imagining how a certain Potions Masters spends his holidays alone, too. 

Then, an owl comes, informing about his father being injured severely and for some time, that erases any thoughts of Severus from Charlie's head. All he can think of is that war is here for real this time, cruel and disastrous and dangerous and all he can do from his detached position is fulfilling Dumbledore's request as best he can.

Every time Charlie secretly whispers to someone about the Order, he thinks of Severus. His only information about the man comes in between lines of Ron's and Ginny's letters and it's really hard to read underneath all those "snarky bastards" and "greasy gits". But Charlie somehow manages and is always secretly happy when a short mention of the hated Potions Master and his vices shines through all the usual family rants. Because being evil and despised means he is still alive and that gives Charlie a chance to hope.

Charlie only realizes how much he misses the man when, after one of those letters, describing an awful Potions lesson vividly, he finds himself wanking to the image of pale, spider-like hands on his body. He is terrified with how quickly he comes as he hears an imagined husky "Charles" ghosting against his ear. 

Charlie isn't one to deny his urges and feelings – under normal circumstances, he would go to Severus and talk to him. But now, there's war raging in England and spreading to the world and he needs to help stopping it, needs to feel useful in protecting his loved ones. Needs to feel that he, also, is doing something, that once it's all over, he will be worthy of Severus' attention.

And a tiny little part of his mind is scared of Severus' reaction.

So Charlie puts the whole infatuation thing aside and promises himself to solve that problem _later, when there's no war and blood and death._

_Later._

* * *

Later, Sirius is dead and Harry is blaming Severus. Charlie reads the bitter lines written in Ron's point of view and can't really bring himself to answer the letter in the way he wants to. He refrains from telling the boys that sometimes, the necessary thing to do isn't always the most pleasant one. Because sometimes, it's easier to place the blame on the shoulders of people used to handling a lot. Of people who are not fifteen, alone and expected to save the mankind. 

So Charlie lets them blame Severus – they would do it anyway – and sends an unwritten message across the world mentally. A message saying _I trust you_, even though it's probably only Charlie who's reassured by it, reassured by the idea of being the only person who has complete faith in Severus Snape's reasoning.

A quiet, promising _later_ manages its way to the imagined message, too.

* * *

Later, the circumstances of Dumbledore's death pulse through Charlie's mind like a vile concoction spiced with a sneer of the thin lips. Somewhere deep inside he doesn't believe Severus – Snape – _Severus_ to be evil, to be a traitor, but the bigger, reasonable part of his brain is telling him that it all fits together.

No one except Charlie ever saw – ever_bothered_ to see – past Severus' cold façade and Charlie doesn't really feel like explaining the assumed Death Eater's circumstances. Not out of fear of being associated with the man – Charlie knows _they_ wouldn't understand anyway. Wouldn't catch the tragedy of a complicated mind, wouldn't _want_ to actually see how the man, mocked by the very people he risked his life to save, had every right to turn on them.

That's what makes it worse in Charlie's eyes – that he can't bring himself to blame Severus Snape for his first perfectly human reaction.

Maybe later, after all have calmed down, he'll make Severus explain, at least to him. Charlie knows it will be pretty difficult to make Severus trust him enough to do it, but he'll manage, he'll have plenty of time for that. Later.

* * *

Later, the letters from Ron stop and only Ginny writes – embittered, secretly scared and boisterously brave Ginny, trying to oppose the "goddamn Death Eater" Headmaster on every occasion. 

Charlie is not sure about it all, but he tries not to think too much. When he manages to shut his mind down and let his wishful feelings take over, they tell him _it's alright, Severus is not a traitor_.

But the complete control of his racing thoughts is almost impossible to maintain and thus, Charlie is doubtful. He hates to be… so he decides to wait for the supposed time that solves everything – for another _later_.

* * *

When it arrives, Charlie's fingers buzz with excitement and tremble with nervousness. Only his orders prevent him from rushing to the battlefield and finding out whatever he has to find out eventually. More than a grave injury or even death he fears that the seemingly obvious truth of Severus Snape is a truth nonetheless, that his emotions were wrong and that no _later_ is to come after all the bloodshed. 

He forces those thoughts to the back of his mind and renews the more pleasant ones, the thoughts of finally being able to talk to Severus properly, without the restrictions of mistrust on both sides. With that in mind, Charlie storms into the battle.

* * *

The funeral is quiet and full of people who want to give their last goodbye, to the dead man and to the war. Charlie feels it's symbolic, that coming today is the way of those people to say farewell to all the great things that have died on those battlefields under Dark curses. All the great people that could've been greater, given the chance.

In fact, Charlie can't really think about anything at all. He wishes he never left for Romania, he wishes he was home more, spent more time with his siblings and parents, and feels sick at the mere thought of how many could have died there, that night, at the very moment of Fred's death. 

The look at the coffin clutches Charlie's stomach violently along with his chest as he masochistically stares at his dead brother's face. He can't help but wonder _why him_ – Charlie knows it's getting him nowhere, but he has to think about it at least for a little while to drain his supply of bitterness, to be able to mourn his brother in peace, without ruining this sacred, hysterical and morbid moment with anger.

His mother is not crying. She is exhausted, terribly pale and her eyes are red and puffy. Charlie doubts she would be able to stand through the ceremony if not for the support of his father, mental and physical. She must have had cried all of her tears already through those three days after the Battle of Hogwarts, as it was called shortly after it ended.

Charlie feels no connection with the historical moments he was a part of, with the Battle or with the people standing around. He feels strangely alien as he watches his big brother, the always cheerful and smiling Bill, now weeping, quietly, without making a sound, just holding Fleur's hand so firmly that Charlie can see her wince from pain even through her black veil. 

There's an eerie picture of a dead man bending down over his own coffin, his own body – George is just as pale as Fred, as if his body didn't want to break that stable harmony between the two of them. As if the Mother Nature herself didn't like to see them separated, so she makes the living one a walking dead, she makes his eyes dry and unmoving and with the living brother leaning over the dead one to give him one last kiss goodbye, she creates a macabre exhibition of war's _later_ that will never make it to heroic chronicles.

Charlie can't help but wonder if there was someone crying at the yesterday's funeral. He would bet _not_ – people usually weep for their tragic heroes only in the theatre. The funeral takes place at Hogwarts grounds; Charlie hears Minerva McGonagall suggested it. He wants to say that Severus wouldn't want to be buried in the place to which he was confined during his life, but says nothing eventually. He doesn't even go – wants to, but somehow, mourning Severus Snape seems too real to Charlie, too personal, too intimate.

So, as the coffin of his brother descends down to the ground and George finally breaks down and falls to his knees, not really paying attention to Lee Jordan trying to haul him up from the freshly-dug earth, Charlie lets his tears trickle down his face, too.

Tears for his brother, for all the good people he knew and lost in the war, for all those he never had the chance of knowing and never will.

Tears for his dead _later_.

* * *

Charlie doesn't really want to drink himself into oblivion – he has tried many times and always failed. However, the routine process of lifting a bottle to his lips soothes him more than the alcohol itself, so he continues, even after catching the disapproving glance of his father. He hears something mumbled, something along the lines of helping their mother instead of getting thoroughly and pointlessly pissed – and Charlie knows that Dad is right, but that doesn't help at all.

So Charlie takes another swig from the Ogden's and stares into the flames some more.

After a while, he gets up, walks out of the door and gets going.

He doesn't remember Apparating, but he must have, because he's standing in front of the door very far from the Burrow, door which don't really have any color and make Charlie's stomach convulse.

He knocks; after hearing a _Come in_, he does. The room is still the same as he remembers it, the presence of another human being almost nonexistent here, but Charlie still can feel _him_, can smell his spicy aroma, can almost see the movements of those hands linger in the air. 

"Here," the velvety voice rouses him from his thoughts and Charlie is reluctant to turn around, enjoying the mere feeling of his existence, of his closeness, before turning around.

He is there, thin and hunched and frowning, his face lined and sallow and his hair greasy, and his lips quirked in a smirk that Charlie never found as sexy as right now and the hand, _gods, the hands…_

The vial slips from Charlie's fingers again, and is saved by Severus' quick reflexes, again. 

"Be careful with that, Weasley, it took me five weeks to finish." 

His growl sounds almost soothing to Charlie, as if the time didn't matter anymore here, not with them, not now, not… ever. Slight touch of Severus' fingers on his own cloud Charlie's mind as he steps closer and gathers all his courage to look up from the long fingernails to the dark eyes, rich and liquid black swallowing his coherency for a long period of time, but Severus isn't smirking or making snide comments about Charlie being mute.

So Charlie looks, and is drawn to the darkness like a moth to the flame, only knowing it would destroy him and wishing for it.

Severus says "Charles" and Charlie can't remember when the last time someone called him that was. It feels alien to Charlie, as if it wasn't him, as if that one name meant he was a completely new person allowed to feel what he is afraid to feel. As if Severus was creating an alternative reality just by saying that name, constructing a whole new world just for the two of them.

Severus says "Charles" in a bitter and salty and rich tone and it makes Charlie want to taste that voice.

Stepping closer, Charlie searches for the warning in that embracing darkness, but finds none. 

"I am not allowed to have memories other than those my work requires," Severus says quietly, and in his eyes, there's a question.

"That's stupid. No one's able to ban you from being human," Charlie answers and feels that it's finally true now, finally not an empty phrase.

"I am," the thin lips smile, not smirk or grin or sneer, but actually smile softly as if considering a distant possibility.

Charlie wants to tell Severus that now, he is allowed to keep memories of his own, so he lets his tongue tell it directly to Severus', lets his lips imprint that very idea on the thin, dry lips of the man Charlie's not allowed to even touch and is kissing at the very moment.

His fingers intertwine in the shoulder-long hair and the oily touch of the dirt and Potions fumes in them is so real that it makes Charlie moan into the reciprocated kiss. Slowly he savours the exquisite taste, enjoys the unique feeling of being pressed against the tall man and tangles himself in those scary robes of his. 

The kiss is broken for the mere need of oxygen and Charlie is reluctant to open his eyes for a second.

When Charlie wakes up, he's not crying. Just that his whole body is shaking with the complicated mix of blame, hurt, fear and - Charlie is ashamed to admit it, but in the darkness of the night, there's no one to make him blush - there is also arousal, for Charlie still feels the slightly cold kiss of the dead man on his lips. 

Charlie gets up from the couch, his neck hurting already, and walks to the kitchen, severely in need of something to calm him down. In the cupboard, there's an old anti-ache potion and Charlie immediately imagines it touched by long, elegant fingers. Immediately springs into tears, even though he's not a very emotional man; but these are not tears of sadness or mourning. These are helpless tears of what could have been, tears of understanding how much time he had wasted with waiting for something that would've never come. 

In one gulp, Charlie downs the potion and tries to wash away the feeling of guilt. If only he came home sooner, if only he had the courage to be a fool and maybe get hexed by a surprised Severus, if only he didn't miss that unique opportunity of maybe being a reason for Severus to be still alive…

Knowing there's no point in thinking about that now and thinking about it nonetheless, Charlie walks upstairs to his old room and spends the rest of the night not really knowing whether he wants to fall asleep or not.

* * *

"Talk to him," Harry says with that charming, boyish smile of his. That smile is still the same, even after all those years, even after its owner isn't a boy anymore. He's a husband now, a father, and it all makes Charlie feel as if his own time stopped long ago while the whole world moves at double speed.

"Why me?" Charlie asks and manages to not sound as terrified as he is, deep down where he is still trying to comprehend what Harry has just asked of him.

"I can't. I saw his memories twice, violated that little personal space he'd ever had. I am afraid of seeing him moving again," Harry admits and Charlie recognizes that this responsible-Auror-Harry has much more understanding for Severus Snape than the Boy-Who-Lived ever had.

So Charlie walks into the office of Headmaster of Hogwarts as a first person since the new portrait has been hung up. The new portrait of the hated hero, of the man who saved many lives and sacrificed his own only to be remembered by most of those he saved as the anti-social Potions Master who eventually turned out not to be totally evil. 

At first, it looks as if the portrait isn't even a wizarding one – they stare at each other, either of them in different mixture of disbelief, unease, shame and bitterness. Or at least that's what Charlie thinks – it's hard to predict a portrait's expressions, especially when it's a portrait of always unreadable Severus Snape. And it _is_ his portrait, perfectly capturing his pale face with his Greek nose, high cheekbones and several worry-lines around his eyes and mouth, curved in a slight sneer. Charlie is surprised by how much of Severus Snape he doesn't remember and how much still seems all too familiar to him.

Eventually, the silence is broken by a voice. 

"Charles," says the voice, and oh Merlin, it _is_ his voice, the rich undertone that reminds Charlie of black velvet and makes him a new person all over again. 

Charlie wants to cry just as he wanted to cry the second he found out Severus had died, and just as then, there's not even a single tear streaming down his cheeks. All the frustrated tears are clustered somewhere within him, somewhere deep and hidden and aching.

Charlie wants to tell him all that he wanted to tell him for years, tell him that he just didn't make it in time, that it could have been all different. He stays silent, knowing that it would have all been lies. He could've changed nothing at all. All that happened was for the "greater good" and Charlie doesn't feel any better knowing that they helped this high ideal to become reality.

Charlie wants to touch him once more and reminiscence about that night at Spinner's End. He desperately needs to feel Severus' pale, icy fingers under his own... 

Charlie never makes a move, because he thinks he couldn't bear the feel of painted canvas, final, definite death to all his memories and hopes. He is wrong... _the only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable_. He found that sentence in one of Severus' books and thought that it was quite true...

…but he never touches the painting anyway. 

That night, Charles dreams of soft kisses and cold touches again.

In the morning, Charlie's head hurts. He doesn't search for any potion and makes coffee instead.

* * *

_In a time when the sun descends alone_

_I ran a long, long way from home_

_to find the hope that's made of stone_

_I will try_

_I just need a little time_

_to get your face right out of my mind_

_to see the world through different eyes_

_Every time I see you, oh, I try to hide away_

_but when we meet it seems I can't let go_

_every time you leave the room I feel I'm fading like a flower_

_Tell me why _

_when I scream there's no reply_

_when I reach out there's nothing to find_

_when I sleep I break down and cry_

**The End**

**A/N:** Please, review and let me know your opinion on this...**  
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